


The Path of Least Resistance

by susiephalange



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Assistant!Reader, Computers, Don't worry readers they're just threats, F/M, Female!Reader - Freeform, Fluff, Hacking, Jon Snow knows nothing, Jon-centric, Nerdiness, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Video & Computer Games, about feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 18:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7944949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon Snow is a part of an elite team of weirdos who protect their people through internet coding. He makes sure that outside threats are treated accordingly, and swiftly. He doesn't realise he needs an assistant, and no matter what, does his best to ignore her helpful ways. Until of course, a threat comes to something he realises he can't lose...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Path of Least Resistance

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I've read Book 1 and half of Book 2 in ASoIAF and I really like Jon Snow. If I get him OOC or anything, I apologise. I've never watched GoT (I want to!) and so, you'll have to forgive me.

 

Jon Snow mightn't seem important in his job. He wore street clothes and drank dollar coffee and his shoes were scuffed and had a lot more used gum on their sole than a subway floor. But he was a man in charge of a small division of a handful of programmers - protecting the cyber network of the entire country from invasion. Of course, his pay-check wasn't as large as someone with his position and skill could be, and he was at work far too often to have a relationship, let alone commit to someone else's feelings that way.

Apart from the horny teenagers messing around, trying to hack into government tech, Jon Snow's team - which Samwell nicknamed the 'Night's Watch' after a semi-drunk D&D game - were the first and final line of defence toward the fearsome international hacker group. The group (or person, who knew their identity?) was named 'WyteWlkr', and haunted Jon's dreams with their abilities.

The 'WyteWlkr's had almost made India react with war to a false email sent by New Zealand, had found and sent horrific images to foreign government agencies, and personally stored the world's nuclear codes for "the right occasion".

It wasn't until his boss declared that the black-clad neck-bearded men were to receive a shared assistant to help with the atmosphere and 'human management' side of the business that Jon realised they were quite fine without another person, thank you very much.

But of course, his boss didn't care, and sent this assistant in anyways. She had (h/l), (h/c) hair that seemed to shine under any light, and a bright smile that would be too enthusiastic to Jon for any reason. Yeah, it wasn't ________'s fault that she was just too goddamn into her job - apparently the management and organisation of things was a passion for her - just like Jon was into his.

So he did the best thing he could do to a crazy enthusiastic secretary. He'd put up with her arriving to their office with coffee too good for him, and replacing all the bland yellow sticky notes with her favourite colours. He ignored the way his co-workers smiled at her, and the way she did to him. But Jon couldn't smile at her. 

"So, a couple of your friends here told me you're the grumpy one," she approached him at the tearoom. It was a dinky little room with a mini fridge and a playboy poster from someone's father's antique magazines, and a dart board. "But I found that out for myself, Snow."

"I'm busy," he grits out, focusing his gaze on his cup of soup. 

She nods. "Alright, grumpy." 

There's a shout from the mainroom, and suddenly, Samwell's calling out Jon's name and there's  a thud. The soup is tossed into the sink carelessly, and at once, he's off, out and racing to the computers. Tollett is on the ground, out for the count, and the rest of the Night's Watch are flabbergasted and silent. The screens all have the same face upon them; a pixelated man's face, the right side scarred and red, the other seemingly bleached whiter. 

"Hello, children," the computer taunts, his words manged through a voice-changer. "I"m the devil."

"WyteWlkr," Jon greets curtly. "What are you doing here?"

The man on the screen tilts his head. "I'm tired of playing your games, Jon Snow. I've been a good boy, following along, pretending to play for your team. You think you're ahead of me? Wrong."

Slowly, Jon turns. Samwell is speachless, and Yoren is frozen. He can tell the man on the screen (whether it be his face or no) can see through all the computer's webcams. They're under siege. Nothing on their laptops are safe, it's all hacked. With two fingers not straying from his side, he catches the eye of __________. Quickly, he makes the symbol for phone with his hand, and at once, from her pocket, she withdrew the mobile, and without looking at the screen, she dialled the security number. 

"I can see your woman, Jon Snow," the man on the screen snarled. "Calling for help won't help her. I'll find her. I will have her and have my way with her." He threatened. 

"You will not," Jon challenged. 

________ lifted the screen to her ear, and faster than Jon could ever had done himself, spoke the ordeal to the head of security. She frowns, and looking at the screen, shrieks. The same face that is all over the computers is in her phone. 

"Oh, yes I will," the hacker's voice sneers. "And there is no way you can keep your precious _______ _______ safe from my grasp. I am everywhere. I am watching. I am sick of waiting. I am WyteWlkr." 

 

* * *

 

It isn't until he's seated in the waiting area at the federal police station until Jon realises that ________ is trembling. It's not the same sort of trembling she did before gifting Samwell the leather-bound Moleskin journal for his birthday, it's a sort of shaking which has her legs jumping slightly, hands tremouring like an earthquake measurer. 

He doesn't realise her shaking has stopped when he looks down at his hand, and sees it has migrated to her lap. Her hand is curled around his; his, muscled from all the basketball he played as a child with his step-family, calloused from all the typing. Her hands are smaller than his, and softer, and there are stray pen-marks and ink stains and her nail polish is chipped, but Jon doesn't care. She's his assistant, dammit, not that creep who called himself 'the devil'. Carefully, Jon strokes her skin with his thumb. 

"Snow? ____________?" The woman in charge, Ms Arryn calls them in. 

"Can you walk?" He asks _______. He can see her eyes, and the way she blankly stares ahead. "Ms. Arryn, Commander - my associate is going into shock, do you have -,"

She nods, and steers _______ from Jon's grip into the room. "Yes, we are fully equipped for all sorts of first aid. Come on in, we have much to discuss." As soon as Jon is seated, he can't focus on anything; _______ is huddled under blankets, and Ms. Arryn is chattering on the phone to the head of something else, and for a brief moment, he spaces out. But, that moment is not brief enough, as when Jon focuses again, he is hearing Ms. Arryn asking him for confirmation. "Mr. Snow, do you approve?"

He nods. "Y-yes," he affirms. "Of course."

Her smile is grim. "Right. Well, it's settled. For the next week while tracking down the hacker 'WyteWlkr', your assistant __________ will be in lockdown in your apartment, Mr. Snow." 

It isn't until he's in the car on the way to his home, with _______ in the passenger side that he realises what needs to be done. He lives in a nice place, yes, but it's been truly ages since he's had company, let alone company of the opposite gender who he doesn't much know, and if he really thinks, half the food in the house is expired, and the whole place needs a deep clean. 

"So, you're always not a talkative one?" He turns to see ________ smirking at him. Even after what's been threatened, she still has her humour. 

Jon shakes his head. "Just don't know what to say," he admits, steering the car into his parking area below the building. "I don't talk unless I really have to, I guess."

There's a pause, and then, "Have you always been like this, Mr. Snow?" _______'s voice crackles, and clearing her throat, she excuses herself. 

"Yes." 

 

* * *

 

The first three days pass silently. Jon didn't know what side of him did it, but he had abandoned his bed for her to sleep in amongst the bookshelves and World of Warcraft posters he hadn't taken down since college. He cooked what food he could find that wasn't off, and went out to the corner-store for bread and milk and easy things for his guest to not starve from. It isn't until the fourth day when ______ found a photo frame turned down on the coffee table that they properly talked. 

"Is this your family?" ______ doesn't look up from the frame, taking in the photograph. Jon's heart is racing, wondering what picture she found and if it was the embarrassing one of him and Robb on one or the other's fifteenth birthday. "They look nice."

By the time he sees the picture, _______ is wiping the dust from the glass with her sleeve. It's the picture his uncle Benjen had taken before he went off to fight in the war; his father Ned's arms are wide, holding all of his family within them. Jon stands between Robb and Arya, Sansa on her side, with Catelyn smiling for once in the picture, Rickon on her hip, and Robb holding onto Bran. It had been a good day. Probably, the last good day he could remember. 

"Yeah, they did look nice."

________'s head turns, mouth ajar. "What happened?"

Jon blinks. It's been a while since he's seen his family, let alone thought of them. "Well, for starters, I found out my dad cheated on my mother. I was the product of that merry day." He starts. "And she didn't ever like me. Robb," he points to his brother, "Is training to become a part of the army. He's a reckless git, but he's great at basketball." He smiles.

_______ nods, "And your sisters?" she asks.

Jon smiles. In the photo, Arya is pulling a face, her hair mussed from the skateboard helmet, eyes bright and wild. "That's Arya. I'd think she'd like you, she's a great person. She ran away from home a year ago, and nobody can find her. She's just...disappeared." ________ is silent. "And the one with red hair, that's Sansa. She's set herself on the career path as a model, but ... since dad died, nobody knows if she's modelling or in a ditch."

"No wonder you're stoic," she breathes. "I mean, all I have is (s/n) and my brother (b/n) and my parents, and - oh my gosh, they'll be worried sick about me! They call my apartment phone every Wednesday -," her face grows a rosy blush. "I suppose I can't call them to tell them I'm okay, that hacker..." she shudders.

"I wonder what it'd be like to have a family like that," Jon ponders. But to be honest, there's not a thing he wouldn't trade for his family. Yeah, most of them disliked him, and mostly that wasn't his fault, but they were _his_. "...but yeah, phone-calls are a no-go." 

_______ chuckles, sitting back. 

"What?" 

She shakes her head, and goes to stand. "Well, I just managed to get you to talk more words than you have all year to me, over one photo. Must be a special family, hey, Mr. Snow?"

Jon shakes his head. "It's Jon, _______. And we Stark's sure are a fruity mix." 

 

* * *

 

It's late that night when Jon wakes, a hand on his shoulder. "Jon? Jon, are you awake?" _______'s voice whispers. He groans, opening an eye. "I can't sleep, and I came to thinking, this couch is thirteen years old and very dilapidated and -," she held her breath for a moment, but Jon could hear the words roll from her tongue before they did. "Do you want your bed back?" 

Opening the other eye, Jon sits up. "Wh-at time is it?" he searches for his phone. "Why do you need to switch beds?"

In the dark, he can hear ______ shake her head. "No, I mean - oh damn, this is unprofessional as hell - could you please be, uh, there? With me?" She stutters.

 _Now_ Jon's awake. "Uh, sure. I won't tell Sam." 

He can barely remember walking _________ back to his room, and taking the side of the bed by the window, he curls naturally away from her form. Ironically, this is the most awake he has been for maybe five years, and aware as well; he can't help but notice how fast she has gone back to sleep, and how her form is smaller, and that he's unconsciously aligning his breathing to her slow, steady rhythmic breathes. 

And it hits him. 

___________ is in real danger. The threats were not idle. And he has chosen this moment, at precisely three fifty one a.m. to realise that he will most certainly not tell Sam about this. Or the fact he very much likes her in a more than workplace-appropriate way. 

 He doesn't remember falling asleep, but the vibrating of his mobile under the pillow brings him back to the land of the living. The screen reads the number of Ms. Arryn. 

**WE HAVE CAUGHT THE PEOPLE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE HACKS. ________ IS FREE TO RETURN TO HER OWN HOME. L ARRYN.**

 

* * *

 

 

Over by the new coffee machine gifted to them as a present, Jon does his best to ignore the gaze of Samwell. The coffee machine was an apology present from the affluent old family, the Lannisters, to aplogise for what their pubescent son had done after hiring a hacker for take down the mainframe. He busies himself with all of these facts, and figures, and wonders how many hours will be needed to recode a brand-new security system for the reconfiguration of the firewalls, and not on his friend's keen gaze.

"Oh, out with it," He gasps at last. "I heard from Tollett, who heard from Yoren who eavesdropped that you and ________ were holed up together during the crisis," he spills. "What happened?"

Jon turns. His friend's eyes sparkle, awaiting details. "Nothing. We just lived in the same apartment for almost a week." Taking a sip, he adds, "No big deal."

Samwell's eyes widen, "No big deal? Snow, I have seen you have a rut that has lasted almost five years! I know what any guy is like with a female co-worker, but a hot one? You'd have to be practically blind or -,"

At this, ________ walked in. Jon notices she's wearing a pencil skirt, and her shirt and hairstyle are  rumpled in an unprofessional way. She gives her friendly smile to Samwell, and hands Jon a few pieces of paper. "Sorry to bother you, boys, but here's the poster you wanted printed for Arya. And I made a similar copy for Sansa. Dinner's at seven, don't be late." She beams, and pecking Jon's cheek, clacks off into the rest of the building for her chores.

"Wait, what?" Samwell frowns. "What just happened?"

Jon shrugs, and taking a sip, he chuckles to himself. "Sorry, I can't tell you, Sam."

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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